Little Boy Found
by Beautiful space
Summary: "The little boy lost in the lonely fen, Led by the wandr'ing light, Began to cry, but God ever nigh, Appeared like his father in white. He kissed the child and by the hand led, And to is mother brought, Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale, Her little boy weeping sought." Sequel to 'Little Boy Lost'. What happened to Voldemort after he died and entered the after life?


A/N: This is the sequel to my first one shot about Lord Voldemort's Childhood: Little Boy Lost. If you haven't read it, read it now!

Now, a little thanks to those who had reviewed my previous one shot: Wilhelm Wigworthy and redDaeth.

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_**Little Boy Found**_

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**The little boy lost in the lonely fen**

Lord Voldemort steadied himself and gripped his wand- his beloved elder wand that he had gone such lengths to retrieve- that had killed and tortured many by the thousands. With a grim look on his face, he recounted the first time he had met with the nuisance that dared to breathe in front of him. He had attacked Godrics Hollow purely with the intention of eradicating the danger of the child killing him before Harry James Potter could even walk. But, as much as it pained him to say it, he was wrong. The spell had backfired and destroyed him in the process. But now, there would be no more. He was facing off the bane of his life, the Boy Who Lived, for the final time in the rubble that had once been Hogwarts. The rain that had befallen on Hogwarts only hours ago turned the battle field into a bog. Raising the wand of Elder Wood that had soaked in the blood of millions, Voldemort- or Tom Marvolo Riddle- said the two words that had been intended to cause the last Potter heir's downfall- but had instead resulted in his own.

" Avada Kedavra!"

The boy raised his own wand and countered the spell with a mere shout of a disarming spell. Whilst the spell was incredibly useful, the Dark Lord started to doubt the boy's sanity.

What use was a shout of 'Expelliamus' against the intoxicating power of the Killing Curse?

The very same curse, might he add, that caused his own Filthy Mudblood father- Tom Riddle Senior- to die?

**Led by the wand'ring light**

Their spells clashed with a mixture of acid green and electric red. Voldemort gritted his teeth and gave off a shrill, cold, high laugh that usually caused many of his followers to shiver in fear and admiration of their Lord. This boy, Harry Potter, never did. He never so much as flinched. Voldemort forced his magic to go further, the intense light dazzling him. But his power was beginning to weaken, and Lord Voldemort- for the first time in what seemed like forever- felt genuine, true fear.

No! He was Lord Voldemort! He would never die!

The mere thought of his body going cold, his lungs failing in functioning and eventually dying unnerved him. Then he'd be boxed up in a coffin and led to a graveyard where he'd be lowered and eventually buried...

Voldemort suppressed a shudder. But as much as he hated the thought, it wasn't death that he was afraid of.

It was being forgotten.

After being raised to be ignored in an orphanage where everyone cared about themselves, Voldemort had learnt to make himself noticeable.

But it hadn't worked.

The staff never noticed him unless he did something unexplainable.

They forgot about him.

His father forgot about him.

He began to tremble as the spell neared him. It was going to backfire, he knew it. His fear, however, only weakened his resolve and Harry Potter's spell was beginning to overcome his own. The spell that he had trusted- become dependent on- had failed him for the second time.

Voldemort was swallowed by green light just as Neville Longbottom severed the head of Nagini.

**Began to cry; but God, ever nigh**

Tom Marvolo Riddle rippled into existence. He glanced around himself. The area around him looked like a clean train station- Kings Cross to be precise. The whole place was glowing with ethereal white light. Tom frowned, looking around. Either the place was taller than he remembered...

Or he had shrunk.

He then looked at his own hands. The hands that he had become so familiar with had vanished. Gone were the bony, spidery fingers. In their place were soft and supple hands that seemed so much smaller. The defeated Dark Lord raised his hands and probed his face.

He was young again.

But then he looked around himself yet again. He was alone. So completely and utterly alone. With his sanity finally intact and his soul whole, Tom Riddle finally understood that the followers he had gathered would never remain loyal to him. All of them joined for their own good and for the benefit of themselves and their families. They joined for their own self preservation.

He never had someone who he could truly trust.

Even Bellatrix Lestrange, his most trusted lieutenant, had joined out of pure bloodlust and the promise of power.

Severus Snape had joined him out of jealousy of James Potter and only wanted to remain with Lily Evans, his love of his life.

Nobody loved Tom.

Tom had no one.

He had nothing.

He finally broke down and cried, weeping for a second chance, wailing for someone to be there for him. He was reduced to his eight year old mindset, calling and pleading for his father- his mother- anyone to help him and protect him.

Someone to guide him.

**Appeared like his father in white.**

A brilliant flash of white blinded Tom and he blearily blinked through his tears. What he saw astonished him so much that his eyes flew fully open.

Tom Riddle Senior- his father- had returned to him, alive and well!

**He kissed the child and by the hand led**

He was decked out in white clothing that seemed to glow. His hair was styled the same way that Tom's was when he was a mere teenager. Matching obsidian eyes peered from his father's picturesque face and looked at Tom- really looked at him- with an emotion Tom had never experienced, and yet craved for in his childhood.

The one emotion that his father had never shown him when Tom had arrived in Riddle Manor to confront his father.

Love.

The man walked to him with three words on his lips. Those three words that were never shouted to Tom, whispered in his ear, sung to him. Those three words that were never shared with Tom nor were ever spoken by him.

" I love you." He whispered. Tom Riddle the younger finally broke out a sob and ran to his father. The man scooped him up and placed a soft kiss- a kiss that was never given to Tom- upon his fore head. The craving that Tom had since he was a child- the one emotion he desired but thought had been extinguished before he had even been born- flared and burned within his heart. It gave him comforting warmth that sang its own harmony throughout his whole body.

Was this Love?

Was this the emotion that he had never experienced?

Tom smiled in his father's arms, his eyes closed shut.

Hatred was nothing compared to this.

Hatred was the past. It was history.

Love was always in the present and would live on in the future.

His father finally, gently, put him down and offered his hand, giving his only offspring a gentle smile.

" Come with me, son." He said, softly.

**And to his mother brought**

Tom gave his father an inquisitive look.

" Where are we going?" He asked. His father smiled back at his son.

" We're going to your mother, the woman who birthed you." Tom felt nervousness course throughout his body. His mother, the victim of his father's hatred and fear, was the one person who Tom held high within his heart. Whilst he knew that she had next to no magical potential, she was the woman who gave birth to him and gave him life in the first place. And he respected her for that, though she hadn't enough strength to live on.

Would she hate him for what he'd done to her husband?

Would she be disappointed in the person who Tom had become?

Tom Marvolo Riddle vowed that if he could go back, he would do everything the way his parents would have wanted him to. With a determined pout that looked strangely out of place on his aristocratic, handsome face, he journeyed onward with his father.

**Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale**

The scene around them faded out and the familiar scene of Little Hangleton appeared before their eyes. The Riddle manor on their left was forgotten and ignored, the Gaunt cottage being both father and son's focus. The residence of the last descendants of Salazar Slytherin looked ancient and decrepit. It looked lonely and out of place upon the hill- the dale, Tom the younger corrected himself- and looked dangerously close to being blown away by the wind. But the house was no longer Tom's main objective- instead it was the woman sitting alone and worried in the midst of the knee- length grass. Her fine and thin hair tangled and blew within the breeze and her mismatched eyes- one was blue and the other was the sanguine red that Tom had become accustomed to seeing in his own face- looked in opposite directions. Her pale, colourless hair blew in her face and Tom savoured her face- the face that looked beautiful only to him- with a jaw line too sharp to be feminine and a nose too small to define her features. Her cheek bones were none existent and her chin was stubby and square. Her hairline was irregular and her lips were thin and cracked.

His mother.

The most beautiful woman who Tom had ever laid eyes on.

She looked up and smiled at him, her teeth- that were actually beautiful; they were pearly, white, small and pretty- flashing toward him. She stood up and Tom noted that she was only half a head taller than him. They both took a step forward.

" Tom. My baby." She whispered. " My beautiful baby boy." He was embraced and he sunk into it with a joyous smile on his face. His lithe figure was encircled by an equally malnourished frame. He allowed tears to roll down his cheeks- but this time in happiness.

" Mother... I-"

" I know, baby. I know you feel guilty. I know you want to do it all again. That's why you're going to have another chance." She said, tenderly. Tom loved her voice. It sounded dry, husky and deep, but it was music to his ears.

" But what about you?" He asked, still not letting go of the one woman who he treasured in his heart.

" We've had our turn, Tom." His father stated, softly. " We want to see what you can change. We want to see you... happy. We don't want to see you living your life in guilt and misery. We love you, don't you ever forget that."

" I- I don't understand." Tom stammered.

" We're going to give you a chance to live again, baby." His mother said, softly. " You're going to be reborn."

A flash of light tore him from his parents.

" Mother! Father!" He shouted. Their faces were of sadness, but resigned happiness at the same time.

" We love you, baby!" His mother shouted. She was enveloped by a hug from his father. Tom Riddle Junior only managed to stay conscious long enough for her to mouth the following words before the light climaxed and took him away from his parents for a new life- a chance of redemption.

" Do us proud, my baby boy." His mother whispered as Tom vanished from their sight.

**Her little boy weeping sought**

Eight years into the future, a wail was heard in the Potter manor. A baby boy was happily announced and the whole of the Wizarding world reverently gave dedications and prepared gifts for the new Potter heir. A newborn was delivered in the loving arms of Ginevra Molly Potter nee Weasley and Harry James Potter.

And the crying baby that was once Tom Marvolo Riddle, arch nemesis of Harry Potter, was renamed as his son and heir.

Albus Severus Potter.

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A/N: The bold lines are lines from 'Little Boy Found', the sequel to 'Little Boy Lost'. I just wanted to point out that only Tom's mother is real in the after life- his father was the figure that Tom had dreamed of in his childhood; the ideal parent for him. He isn't the real Tom Riddle senior since we all know that he would probably reject Tom a second time.

Review, please!


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